Chapter 47: Are You Coming? Will You Do It? What’s the Point?

Sleep is an art, a skillful craft. Where to sleep, how to sleep, even the number of people involved in the act—all require careful consideration.

For instance, when the emperor suffers from headaches and restless nights, it is often the empress who tends to him attentively by his side, allowing him to finally rest well through the night.

Whether the imperial couple ever truly shared love, Wu An did not know. All he understood was that with the year's end approaching, if the emperor planned to retire to the Eastern Capital to recuperate next year, it would mean that everything Wu An had prepared so far would need to be restarted... or perhaps, brought to a close altogether.

Wu An had not seen the emperor for some time. It was said the emperor’s illness was not severe, only tormenting, but it provided enough reason to “shield” himself from the constant harassment of his ministers.

Shangguan Wan’er’s condition had improved somewhat. Wu An made no promises that she would recover fully within the palace, but he did see her onto the carriage.

As she prepared to enter the compartment, she turned to Wu An and asked, “When will you make your move?”

“Uncertain,” he replied.

“Against whom?”

“I do not know.”

The flush drained from Shangguan Wan’er’s face, yet she gritted her teeth and asked, “What else do you want to know?”

“I already know more than enough.”

The Crown Prince, the court, the emperor and empress—they were like three violent storms, suddenly stirring countless tumultuous waves across the vast sea.

Wu An did not lie. No matter how much he schemed or planned, he felt like a primary school student about to take the college entrance exam; rereading the textbooks a hundred times would not change his fate.

Instead of futile efforts, it was better to check his stationery once more, at least so he could leave his name behind.

Shangguan Wan’er hesitated, wanting to say more, but ultimately turned and entered the carriage. Watching it depart from the Marquis’s mansion, Liang Xin approached quietly and said, “Today, the Tibetan envoy is to visit the Li household.”

This year, the war at the border was nearing its end. The Tang dynasty held deep roots, while Tibet, constrained in many ways, had some who wished to halt further conflict, thus sending envoys to negotiate peace.

“Previously, it was always about seeking peace. Now, they speak of negotiation. Just that one word changes the entire tone of the matter.”

Wu An stood with his hands behind his back, gazing at the cold streets outside, and said slowly, “Li Jingxuan hopes to use this opportunity to turn his fortunes, so he intends to push for peace talks and redraw the borders... In the coming days, I want the list of all guests at his mansion; I want to know how many people live in his household, how many relatives he has in Chang’an.”

“But you told me earlier that His Majesty intends to act against the Eastern Palace...” Liang Xin trailed off.

Wu An shook his head. “There’s already enough dirty water stirred up, but now someone is holding the basin, unwilling to pour it out.”

Every day, “classified information” flowed into the palace as if for free, including all manner of contraband or so-called rebellious actions, totaling at least dozens of items.

At first, Wu An had merely smuggled a bit of dirt into the palace, aided by Lady Pei, which prompted the emperor to order the detention of Xue Zhen and Hao Chujun.

But now, this tactic failed to produce the expected results against Li Jingxuan.

“Commander, but this matter is of great importance...” Liang Xin began.

“Commander Liang.” Wu An looked at him calmly. “How old are you this year?”

“I am twenty-eight... My grandfather once held a fifth-rank official post in Chang’an. My father and elder brother both rose through their family’s status, but I was assigned to the Imperial Guard. I did fairly well at first, being selected to serve in the Hundred Riders.”

“How many years did it take you to rise from a soldier to a captain?”

“Eight years.”

“And since working with me, how long did it take you to become a commander?”

“Eight days.”

A complex smile flickered on Liang Xin’s face as he whispered, “Commander Wu, I understand your meaning well. It’s not just that. Zhang Wu follows you because no one would forgive his crimes against the Prime Minister’s Mansion. As for me... I personally strangled two sitting chancellors.”

In terms of emotion and logic, these two commanders, both from the Hundred Riders, along with all their subordinates, were thoroughly bound to Wu An.

Their fortunes were tied together: what benefited one would benefit all, what harmed one would harm all.

Their loyalty had been proven.

The two men fell silent. After a while, Liang Xin finally dared to ask, “But, what exactly do you intend to do?”

Wu An gave no answer. He only needed to be certain that his forces would obey his orders when it mattered—much like a scoundrel who, after winning a woman’s body, finds it no longer novel—after all, she could not escape.

After a moment, he asked lightly, “Shall we do it?”

Liang Xin did not hesitate; instead, he nodded with some relief. “Yes.”

One hundred soldiers from Hexi, one hundred from the old Hundred Riders—all could be counted on.

As for the other three hundred or so, Wu An redistributed treasures bestowed by the empress among them. The officers in charge even chose a time to visit and express their gratitude to Commander Wu, while pledging their willingness to obey orders.

Of course, these were polite words. Wu An saw through them but did not stop his “generosity.”

As long as the empress rewarded him and asked him to distribute it, Wu An dutifully handed it out in person, watching as the soldiers came forward to receive their share.

The empress’s intentions were sometimes blunt; the initial stage of nurturing was over, and she now unashamedly demanded repayment. Seizing the opportunity of the Thousand Riders Camp, she began reforming the Jinwu Guard and the Imperial Guard, including their manpower and equipment.

The Tang dynasty had always been strong within but fragile without. The military garrisons and town troops in Guanzhong and surrounding borderlands were numerous. These were not so-called “fiefdoms,” but the fundamental units of the Tang army—the garrison soldiers.

The empress must have had her reasons. But as the year’s end drew near, one matter after another unfolded in court, leaving ministers overwhelmed and exhausted.

The war in Hexi was barely masked by calling it a “great victory.” The emperor, however, remained silent on Tibet’s calls for peace, causing repeated delays.

Moreover, the empress’s proposed matter, once brought to the court, stirred countless undercurrents, with eager players vying to take the bait.

During this time, Di Renjie came to see Wu An once. Compared to his usual composed demeanor, Di Renjie now appeared weary and spoke with less gentleness, embodying the frustration of having to work overtime even during the New Year.

“You seem comfortable,” Di Renjie said, settling himself in the study, displeased. “Many of the recent troubles ultimately stem from you.”

Wu An suspected Di Renjie was venting on him and asked, puzzled, “Are you questioning the empress’s decisions?”

Di Renjie was silent for a moment before replying slowly, “I have seen murderers walk free through connections, but even they are not as...”

He was too polite to say “bully the weak,” offering only a few subtle jabs before asking, “What has the empress said to you recently?”

“What has the empress said to you lately?” Wu An countered.

“The Court of Justice and Censorate are busy. Besides, not everyone can enter the palace to see her at will like you.”

Recently, voices against Wu An in court had grown quieter—not only because the “mad dog” had bitten two chancellors to death but also because of his authority.

My impeachment petitions must pass through three departments and take days to reach the emperor, but he can have his mouth whisper into the empress’s ear at any time if displeased.

Wu An could easily utter biting words, while well-meaning ministers had to weigh many considerations.

Di Renjie was silent again, then said, “The palace has become stricter lately. There will be many personnel changes in court this year—that’s your chance. But... I know you well enough to offer some advice as a friend.”

“I am eager to hear your wise words,” Wu An said.

“I can tell you’ve read widely and have substance, so I find it hard to believe you are truly a Wu clan scion.”

He looked at Wu An’s expression, frowning once more.

“But remember, the court pays your salary and grants your rank so that you can...”

Wu An raised a hand to cut him off.

“That’s a bit unfair, Di Gong. I only remember the whole court wanting me dead. My rank was given by the empress, my salary from her—I owe nothing to the court.”

Di Renjie paused before asking, “Is there a difference?”

“The empress is the empress; the court is the court.”

“That’s a bit extreme,” Di Renjie warned. “Say that outside, and you’ll be flogged at the Court of Justice.”

Wu An said nothing further. Di Renjie didn’t feel awkward and stayed seated, refilling their tea repeatedly, chatting idly.

At last, Wu An declined to stay for dinner and asked if Di Renjie would join him for the night. Only then did Di Renjie rise, politely taking his leave.

As early December waned, a decree from the palace struck the weary ministers like a sudden blow of spirit.

If the empress’s earlier order reprimanding the crown prince had already swayed the court’s mood, this new edict unleashed a gale.

The empress personally bestowed a marriage.

She arranged for Lady Pei, the former crown prince’s primary consort, to be wed to her own nephew, Wu An.

The wedding preparations were simple and swift, and neither side seemed particularly concerned with ceremony or propriety. Since the decree, Wu An had not returned to the Pei mansion. He knew the General of the Jinwu Guard was likely displeased with the arrangement.

The former crown prince had only been gone a few years, and yet the empress hurried to send his widow to her nephew’s chamber. Such magnanimity was a bit much, wasn’t it?

...

“A dog clawed its way back from Hexi. Once fed, two barks are enough—but she treats it like a wolf,” Li Jingxuan set down the documents and sneered.

“I will clear Hao Chujun and Xue Zhen’s names. Besides... such major affairs of state cannot be ruled by a woman. Even if His Majesty is unwell, can he not spare a few days a month to meet his ministers?”

The two elderly men seated opposite sighed. One spoke, “That may be true, but it is somewhat reckless. How His Majesty chooses is his own matter. Fortunately, that woman knows her place and does not meddle in military affairs.”

“What meddle?” Li Jingxuan smiled wryly. “Had I not won that last battle, who knows how she might have raged against me. But now that she thinks she can stir the pot, that is actually our opportunity.”

The two elders immediately fell silent. After a moment, the first to speak cautiously said, “Brother Li, perhaps that’s not something to say openly?”

Li Jingxuan shook his head slightly. “The world is in turmoil: the Turks to the north, Tibet to the west, the Six Zhaos in the south. Only the east remains unshaken.”

He added, “No one has yet explained how the former crown prince died. Have you forgotten?”

The two elders exchanged a glance.

Tang’s eastern lands encompassed the inner seas and faced no enemies. So Li Jingxuan’s “east” naturally referred to the Eastern Palace.

“The foundation of the nation’s affairs is better discussed in court,” one elder stood solemnly.

“If it is an open matter, there is nothing not to say in court. But if it is unclear, I dare not interfere.”

He shot a deep look at Li Jingxuan, then abruptly pushed open the door and left.

The other elder remained seated, silent for a moment. Li Jingxuan asked directly, “Lord Pei, would you be willing to hear me out?”

The elder sighed, a trace of reluctance in his tone.

“I am not like Lord Li, who commands respect in court. My health is frail, and my kin mostly incapable. Even if I wish to assist, I fear I lack the strength...”

He paused, then looked at Li Jingxuan cautiously.

“Since you say this today, may I boldly ask if you want me to speak on behalf of the Eastern Palace?”

“Indeed, I hope Lord Pei will aid the Eastern Palace.”

“But could you be explicit about how to help?”

Li Jingxuan studied the other’s earnest face but cursed him inwardly as a crafty old fox.

The elder was Pei Yan, from the distinguished Hedong Pei clan, a genuine noble lineage, destined for a long path ahead.

Seeing Li Jingxuan silent, Pei Yan chuckled dryly.

“Lord Li, I have heard much about the recent events. Whether that great victory was real, you are well aware. His Majesty will not simply pardon past faults because of one battle.”

Hearing this touch a nerve, Li Jingxuan’s smile stiffened as he forced, “I do not quite understand. But the Eastern Palace is, after all, the foundation of the nation...”

“No matter how great the foundation, it cannot surpass His Majesty.”

Pei Yan’s face remained courteous, but his words were cold.

“His Majesty’s health is poor, so the empress has taken charge of some affairs. She handles major matters fairly well, but as a woman, she tends to hoard good things for her own family. This is not hard to understand.”

“Then may I understand it as such?” Li Jingxuan smiled.

“Pei Ju and Lord Pei both hail from the Pei clan, so they are relatives. His daughter is also your niece. That man is merely a Wu scion, not even from the main line. Must such a person marry your niece?”

Among great clans, marriage ties were still highly valued.

Especially during this Tang period, the Li rulers deeply disliked intermarriage among the great families and often suppressed it, which only made such unions more esteemed.

For a time, marrying a daughter from one of the five prominent clans was a matter of pride.

Pei Yan’s expression did not change, but he no longer immediately refuted. Li Jingxuan pressed on.

“I hear Lord Pei is responsible for guarding the Western Inner Gardens and can come and go freely within the palace gates. If you are willing to help, it would be a simple matter for you. The Crown Prince will surely remember your kindness!”

“The Forbidden Gardens?” Pei Yan looked surprised. “What does the Crown Prince want to do there?”

...

“When the insiders open the gates of the Forbidden Gardens, our troops will advance toward the Xuanwu Gate.”

The study doors were tightly closed. Wu An sat opposite the Crown Prince, a map spread before them, its markings and terrain clear—it was a map of the palace grounds.

“But...” the Crown Prince looked toward Wu An and asked, “You are the empress’s nephew, yet you risk your life for me. What do you seek?”

Wu An did not answer directly but asked in return, “I dare to emulate the loyalty of the virtuous ministers of the Zhenguan era. Does Your Highness not dare to emulate the courage of Emperor Taizong?”

The Crown Prince took a deep breath, steadied his spirit, then shook his head.

“I have no ambitions.”

“I have received reliable news that His Majesty’s migraine has worsened. He has been unconscious in the palace for three days. The empress has ordered the palace sealed, forbidding outsiders from entering or leaving at will.”

“I actually have some connections within the Left and Right Imperial Guards.”

Heh... Given Wu An’s understanding of the Crown Prince’s nature, he knew this “connection” was likely exaggerated.

There was no way the Crown Prince had planted forces within the Imperial Guards.

But before Wu An could question him further, the Crown Prince continued, “Two commanders married to my sisters are among the Left and Right Imperial Guards... They should be trustworthy.”